"I have obstinately opposed the bill on principle," said Peel, "and I do not know how I could rise and recommend, as minister, the adoption of a similar measure. No authority, the example of no man, nor any union of men, would tempt me to accept power under such circumstances and with such conditions."
An address of the House of Commons called the attention of the king to the critical state of affairs. William IV., wounded and irritated, yielded with bitter regret. He recalled the Whig cabinet and authorized it, in writing, to create the number of peers necessary to assure the triumph of the reform bill. It was unnecessary to have recourse to this extreme measure. The Duke of Wellington, as well as the king, comprehended that the time had come for the House of Lords to yield to the external pressure. William IV. wrote to his friends to absent themselves. Upon the renewal of the discussion, the duke arose, and followed by one hundred peers, left the House and did not return until after the passage of the reform bill. "If the lords of the opposition had remained firm," subsequently said Lord Grey, as well as Lord Brougham, "we would probably have been beaten, and the bill would have failed, for we would not have exacted the fullfilment of the kings promise." When William IV. and his intimate advisers bowed their heads before the violence of public opinion, they judged more accurately the irresistible force of the current let loose by the Reformers; the time for resistance, as well as the time for moderation, was past.
The new elections soon demonstrated this, as everywhere throughout the country, the populace manifested great violence toward the adversaries of the triumphant Reform. In London, on the 18th of June, 1832, the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo, while riding through the streets, the Duke of Wellington was assailed by an indignant mob that literally covered him with dirt and insults. He pursued tranquilly his route, walking his horse. A furious rioter seized the bridle and attempted to drag him from his saddle; he was obliged to take refuge in the house of a friend, protected by a number of young lawyers of Lincoln's Inn, who came to his assistance. The next day the king, while in attendance at the races at Ascot, was grievously wounded by a stone. His self-possession and courage equalled the composure of the duke—as imperturbable among the rioters, as indifferent to the applause of the populace. All the windows of Apsley House were broken in a moment of public frenzy. Wellington forbade the replacing of those of the second story. At the return of popular favor, as the people followed the duke with acclamations, he advanced without turning his head, without giving a sign, to the very door of his house; there dismounting from his horse, he pointed with his hand toward the broken windows, shrugged his shoulders and entered the house without uttering a single word.
The condition of the finances was serious; the monetary crises had long weighed upon commerce, and political agitation had alarmed and diminished the same. In order to meet the deficit in the public revenue, the ministry proposed important retrenchments in the war and navy departments—measures always favorably received by the people, who see in them a guarantee of peace, without realizing that they may become fatal to peace, as well as to the national power. Ireland was aroused more violently than ever; the Catholics, re-established in their political and civil rights, demanded, by the voice of their agitators, the abolition of the tithes with which they were burdened for the benefit of the Church of England.
The first care of the Irish leaders, was to counsel the peasants to refuse to pay these tithes. Scenes of disorder recommenced; everywhere crimes against individuals increased tenfold. Scarcely had the Reform Parliament reassembled, when it was called upon to consider a bill of repression, energetically practical, which would moderate for a time at least these outrages. At the same time, and in order to appease the Catholic Irish party, who were everywhere allied to the radicals, Lord Althorpe presented a bill for the reduction of the Protestant ecclesiastical establishment in Ireland: feeble precursor of the work that we have seen accomplished in our day, and already at that time so vigorously attacked by the conservatives, that the ministry was obliged to mitigate its tenor before obtaining a majority in the House of Lords.
Parliament, at this time, was also obliged to sanction an issue of bills of exchequer in favor of the clergy in Ireland, impoverished by the loss of the tithes. The tithes were imposed upon the protestant landholders, who, however, added them to their rents.
The excitement and irritation in Ireland appeared for a moment subdued; but already, from all parts of the kingdom, arose a cry of anger and of disappointment: reform ought to have a remedy for all evils; parliamentary reform ought to relieve all misery.
"Of what use is the new parliament," asked Ashwood, on the 21st of March, 1833, "if actual distress is not relieved? What will the people say of a reform parliament which has already sat so many weeks without having undertaken a single measure in favor of those who are suffering? A general, an extreme, an extraordinary distress weighs upon the whole country. Large numbers of the agricultural laborers are worn out by excessive toil; many others have nothing to do and die of hunger; labor is poorly remunerated; manufacturers realize scarcely any profit; many work at a loss; commerce declines in the same proportion, and a hundred thousand men wander about the streets of London, seeking work but finding none."